


Don't fight

by storiesfortravellers



Category: Chuck (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Community: kink_bingo, Consent Play, M/M, Manhandling, Overwhelmed, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-19
Updated: 2012-08-19
Packaged: 2017-11-12 11:10:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/490234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesfortravellers/pseuds/storiesfortravellers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rough sex with top!Casey. It takes forever for Chuck to convince Casey to try it rough.  It's even more intense than Chuck imagined, and he's not sure he can handle it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for violence and simulated noncon (done at the request of the person who is 'receiving'.) 
> 
> Written for kinkbingo for the "rough sex" square.

_Casey pulled Chuck across the room, one arm holding both of Chuck's behind his back as the other gripped the back of Chuck's neck. Both men were out of breath, fighting each other for control._

_Casey tossed him on the table then, face down, and it was too fast, there was too much **power** for Chuck to fight back, to do anything but fall at the hands of John Casey. Then Chuck winced as he felt Casey's fingers grip his hair, pulling him up, and hesitating just a moment so Chuck would have time to grow terrified. He slammed Chuck down onto the table then, Chuck's arms useless to stop the force that pushed his face into the wooden plane as Casey bent him over the table. Chuck went blurry for a second, but then he felt Casey kick his legs apart and his adrenaline kicked in. He could barely think, and he could barely see, but Chuck felt his body tense up in anticipation as he heard his clothes being ripped, literally breaking into rags from the strength of Casey's hands. Then the cool chill of exposed skin, the roughness of Casey's hands holding him still, even though by this point Chuck was long past the point of resisting. _

~~~

 

"Use the table," Chuck had said.

Casey raised an eyebrow.

"I'm serious, Casey. I have a fantasy about you slamming me down onto a table."

Casey smirked. "Trust me, you don't want that."

Chuck looked annoyed. "Yeah, Casey, I've never seen you in action, so I have no idea how strong you are."

Casey grimaced. 

Chuck repeated, "Use the table." He had that exasperating tone he sometimes had, right before he got his way. 

~~~

_Casey leaned down and bit into Chuck's shoulder, right below where the sinew met the neck. Chuck cried out, but then went as still as he could. He wanted Casey to read the submission in his body, wanted to bring out some primal thing in Casey that would make him look at Chuck as something to take. He could still feel one of Casey's hands, spanned across the back of his head and keeping his face on the wood of their dining table, and Casey's leg was pinning his hip to the side of the table, the edge jutting hard into his hipbone. He heard the work of the other hand: a condom being opened, probably with Casey's teeth. Casey putting it on with one hand, more deftly than anyone should be able to. Then the sound of lube from a bottle, lots of it._

~~~

"We should try it dry."

"Not going to happen," Casey said. He leaned back into the sofa and put his hands behind his head, as if Chuck just suggested that Casey might enjoy learning how to play Super Mario. Chuck had silly ideas. Casey knew reality. 

"So you're just going to shut me down, no discussion," Chuck said, edge in his voice.

Casey sighed. He must have missed the point at which Chuck became a good negotiator. "You can talk, Chuck, but it won't mean I'm doing it."

Chuck did talk. He wanted Casey to push into him dry and raw. He wanted Casey to throw him around like a rag doll, to hurt him and use him, to thrust into him with no prep, to fuck him so hard and dirty and horrible that Chuck wouldn't be able to walk, wouldn't even be able to get off on it.

Casey listened respectfully, not showing anything, even as his mouth went dry. When Chuck was done talking, he looked at Casey, with the same damn look that got them into this mess in the first place, the same damn look Chuck had the first time Chuck kissed him, and then the first time he told Casey to pull his head out of his ass and admit they were more than just fuckbuddies. That look of expectation and hope and desperation, but also challenge, that gleam of anger and cold hard _fight_. That steel core inside Chuck that made him look at Casey as if he were saying "I need this, and I fucking dare you to deny me this."

Casey paused. Finally he said, "Prep yourself before we start. I'll push in, no warmup."

"No lube either."

"Stop topping from the bottom Chuck."

~~~

_  
There was hesitation. Chuck almost had to try and speak, but then he felt Casey's erection pressing at him, and then, fast, even faster than he expected, even though he had to practically beg for it. Casey plunging in, long and wide and fast and **burn** and **pain** and **screaming**. And Casey didn't even give him a chance to catch his breath before he was pulling out, then in again, fast and vicious and thirsty for something deep inside Chuck, deeper even than Chuck thought Casey could go. Chuck's erection had fallen as soon as Casey entered him, and he tried to get it back, tried to focus on everything that made this a fantasy for him, on every detail, but he couldn't, even as Casey created rough friction right across his spot. Nothing could compete with the pain and the fear and the sense of being claimed, and he shut his eyes tight as he tried to remember that he wanted this, that he had lusted after this exact thing since the moment that he met John Casey._

 

~~~

"Why do you want this, any way?" Casey had asked. 

Chuck's jaw tightened. "Do I need a reason?"

Casey wanted to say _Fuck yeah, you need a reason._ Instead, he tried to look amused. "Just curious."

Chuck looked down for a moment, and Casey could practically see the gears turning. Though actually, Casey thought, the kid's brain was more like circuitboards than factory gears, and not just because of the Intersect either.

Finally, Chuck looked up and said, "You don't seem too into this. Do you have a problem with it?"

 _Hell, yes._ But Casey said, "I'm an open-minded guy."

Chuck gave just a hint of smile. "Afraid what will happen when you really 'unleash the Casey'?"

Casey grunted dismissively.

Chuck asked, "Upset that I'm not the innocent kid I used to be? Or maybe you're worried that I never was?"

Casey didn't expect the question. It seemed more like something Chuck would ask himself: has he learned to be a spy, or was the streak of blood and blade there all along....

"Don't know, don't care," Casey said. "Doesn't matter. And doesn't have much to do with what you're asking me."

Chuck paused, then: "I don't see why you can't do this for me."

"I don't see why you won't tell me why you want it," Casey hit back.

"Maybe start by telling me why you _don't._ "

Casey sighed. He could tell already. Chuck had the advantage. He wasn't sure how, but it was clear that he did.  
~~~  
 __

_Chuck felt his body move with Casey's thrusts, each jerk of Casey's hips thrashing him around, each plunge making it harder and harder to find his feet, to stay standing. Casey wasn't holding him up any more, he was letting Chuck fall back and get pushed up on the motion of his dick, making it so much more excruciating and terrifying and degrading. Chuck tried to grab at the edges of the table, tried to hold himself steady so he wasn't just this lightweight piece of flesh bouncing off of Casey's prick, so he could have some semblance of being able to anticipate and control the pain. But his hand and his chest were covered in sweat, he couldn't get traction,and so he kept grabbing for something to hold onto, as Casey, relentless, thrust again and again and again. Chuck would grab the table edge for a second, would hold on as hard as he could, but the chaotic motion and his slippery hands and the fact that he could barely do anything but try not to cry made it impossible, hopeless. But he kept reaching out, trying to hold on to the table for dear life, even as every jut of Casey's body overpowered him, even as Chuck was dizzy with the motion and the pain._

~~~

"I don't know about this," Casey said. 

Chuck peered at him, knowing that for Casey, the statement was a show of vulnerability that, for a normal person, would be equivalent to crying like a baby followed by a request to snuggle all night with some cocoa.

Chuck put his palms on Casey's chest, enough pressure to feel but not enough to push away. "I trust you. So _trust me._ I want this, and I know you can do this for me. I believe in what we have, and if we can handle the spy stuff and the history and the baggage and everything else, we can handle this. We can play hard, Casey. We deserve it."

Casey grunted again. He tried to make it sound like a "We'll see," but Chuck's grin suggested it sounded like a "yes."

~~~

_When it was done, Chuck barely noticed as Casey carried him to the bed. Soon he was cleaned up and Casey was pushing a glass of water at his face, holding it up in case Chuck couldn't or wouldn't. Chuck managed to take a sip before closing his eyes again._

_"Chuck," Casey said, tone artificially even._

_Chuck opened his eyes. "I'm okay." He was worried, then, that Casey would feel guilty, that Casey would get in one of his moods where he felt like he was too much a soldier to love another person. He tried not to show how much he hurt, so Casey wouldn't regret it, wouldn't hate himself, would know that as ragged as Chuck felt, he was grateful, everything would be okay, everything was perfect. He worried that he wouldn't be able to make Casey believe him, and then he wondered, just for a minute, what would happen if he weren't strong enough, if he were too spent, to make sure Casey was okay._

_But Casey was looking at him, and there was a question in his eyes, but it wasn't regret or pain or guilt. Casey was asking what he could do for Chuck. And suddenly, against his will, tears started falling from Chuck's face, and then he was crying, with sobs and gasps for breath and a snot-filled nose, and none of that mattered to Casey as he held Chuck close, letting Chuck lean his crying face tight to Casey's shoulder, his hands moving gently on Chuck's bruised body. Chuck didn't even understand where this came from, his own emotion or Casey's reaction, but he cried until he had nothing left to give, no noise left in his lungs. And Casey kept holding and soothing and whispering, solid and perfect and smooth, until Chuck let sleep take him, and he fell into dreams of bliss and orgasms blotting out everything, all of the sore and all of the pain, until there was nothing, nothing to him but Casey._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after it doesn't go exactly as expected.

The next morning it hurt everywhere.

It was blurry before it was clear.

And Chuck wondered where Casey was. He tried to sit up in bed but it hurt.

Everywhere.

He tried to move again and winced, tried not to let tears fill his eyes, and then he saw Casey in the doorway, heard him gently say, "Hey, hey, take it easy, buddy," as he hurried toward him.

He flinched as Casey neared.

_He flinched._

Chuck noticed the tray in Casey's hand and seamlessly lied, "Coffee. I was afraid you were going to spill the coffee."

Casey nodded as he set the tray on the bedstand. It was that very Casey look he got sometimes, Chuck noticed. The one where he knows you're full of shit but is letting it pass anyway. 

It was easy to forget sometimes, how fucking smart Casey was.

Chuck tried to sit up again but this time Casey was helping him, somehow finding an unbruised spot to grip to pull Chuck up, and settling him at an angle that was at least a little more comfortable. He still grimaced, though.

Casey nodded toward the coffee and toast and said, "Will you eat?"

A good question. Not "Do you feel like eating?" or "You need to eat." And there were two cups of coffee, plenty of slices of toast, and five kinds of jam. Breakfast for two. So to refuse breakfast would be to tell Casey that he wouldn't share a meal with him any more.

Smart, that Casey.

Chuck reached his less sore arm up and quickly Casey put a mug in his hand. Chuck sipped, and the heat was a comfort, more than he expected it to be. He put the mug's side against his bruised jawline then and sighed at the relief tinged with pain. His eyes closed, and he wished for a second he could be alone, he could just cry a little and sleep a lot and not have Casey there to watch him. 

He ate a piece of toast with cherry-rhubarb jam. 

He smiled a little, even though it hurt his face to smile.

He wasn't looking forward to looking in the mirror.

Or to making up a reason to his friends why he had bruises all over. If he told him it was a mission, they would be all over it, trying to help him deal with the latest 'threat.'

Casey ate his toast, too, and drank some coffee. It was one of the nicest quietest breakfasts they'd had in a while. In the sense of being very, very silent.

Finally, Casey spoke. "I don't think you communicated very well last night."

Chuck put his toast down and his lips thinned. "Really? You start with an insult?"

Casey looked at him in surprise. A rare thing.

"Sorry," Casey said, "I just - " Casey sighed and then said, "It's usually you. Who figures out what to say. When we have a problem."

"Who says we have a problem?" Chuck said testily.

Casey just paused and then looked down into his coffee before taking a long sip.

 _Really, Casey?_ Chuck thought, _You're stalling? Are you more scared of a conversation than an armed assault team?_

And then the bitterness eased off as Chuck remembered, _Yes. Yes, Casey is more afraid of a conversation. He's Casey._

And just as the bitterness lifted, Chuck realized that it was there. And it shouldn't be.

"Right. Talking. That's my thing," Chuck said, and managed to smile.

Casey smiled back. 

"Chuck, I won't be... I mean, I'm not sure where you started thinking of me as all fragile and stuff, but I can handle it if you didn't like it. If you wish I had... I mean, I regret not paying closer..." Casey trailed off and shook his head.

Chuck shifted and tried not to show the pain. "John Casey," he said, "Was that the longest continuous expression of your feelings about a relationship you've ever completed?"

Casey smiled. Chuck was still getting used to this smile, the unguarded one, almost shy looking. The one without a trace of smirk. 

The nice smile. 

"Don't mock, you're supposed to be the nice one," Casey softballed back.

"What does that make you, the - " Chuck stopped and they looked at each other for a second before mutually agreeing on not finishing the sentence.

"I thought you would safeword," Casey blurted out.

Chuck stared, swallowed, nodded.

"Sorry," Casey retracted, "Accusation again. Not what I meant."

"No,"Chuck said slowly, "It's ... I think I wanted _so_ badly to love it."

"But you didn't."

A pause. "I did. Actually. But then I didn't. But then... there was part of me that... I mean, what I needed I got, but then I also - I mean we also - it's just ... I liked it. I got off. And even now, just thinking about what you did, the idea of it... like it's hard ot explain. I didn't like it. But I did like it. Like even right now, it hurts, and then I feel it and I say to myself "John Casey brutalized me and I couldn't stop him," and just that idea alone, feeling what you did to my body, it makes me half hard even now and I --" 

Chuck stops as he notices something flicker across Casey's face, something shading his features. "Casey - you didn't - I used 'brutalize' because it was my fantasy, not because you really-"

"I understand, Chuck." 

Chuck paused. And then he said, "No."

"Excuse me?"

"No, I am not adding one more thing on the list of things John Casey feels guilty about. One more thing that you can pout over while whiskeying it up, poor little Casey and his history of romance gone wrong. You are not doing that."

Casey narrowed his eyes. "You're trying to make me mad to distract me."

"Yes. Because you don't get to feel guilty that I talked you into something and was too stubborn to back out or safety word. You were so great afterward, Casey, and the best thing you did last night was to let me be in pain without worrying about your feelings and whether it's going to be an uphill battle to ever get you to trust me again. So knock it off." 

Casey looked at him, and it was with something like respect. Chuck couldn't always tell what Casey thought of him, and Casey kept it that way on purpose. In this case, he kept it to himself that he was grateful Chuck knew how to fight _for_ a relationship. It was the only kind of fight Casey couldn't start, the only kind that left him clueless, standing there amid the rubble, not realizing until too late that he was supposed to be fighting at all. 

He obeyed Chuck by teasing him, "Stubbornness, huh? That's what all this was, you being stubborn?"

A grimace. "A little. And also because... well, you can hate something and still feel like you need more, you know?"

The man who had spent decades looking for his next war zone just nodded.

Chuck continued, "It was good. But it wasn't. And I shouldn't have insisted on having my way for every little thing." Chuck left off before adding, _And I just assumed you would magically notice when I needed you to save me. You do everywhere else._

"Top's responsible. Regardless of circumstances," Casey said, "Not feeling guilty, technically. But I'm responsible. And also I'm responsible for not saying... I mean, I was worried you wouldn't really like it."

"I know. You tried to talk me out of it."

Casey paused. He looked pained.

"Tell me anything, Casey. I promise it's okay," Chuck encouraged, trying to sound upbeat. _Not that you liked it. Please don't say that you liked it._

"I think... and if you mock me Bartowski, I will -- uh, I'll kidnap your Serenity action figures-"

"They belong to Morgan, actually."

"Even better, I'll kidnap your Morgan."

Chuck smiled. He didn't mention that being kidnapped by a real spy would probably give Morgan bragging rights forever. 

"Spill it, tough guy," Chuck smiled.

"I don't think I'm... " Casey rolled his eyes. "I'm not good at saying no to you any more."

"You call my ideas idiotic all the time."

"When warranted. But when it's not about mission strategy, it's-" Casey frowned, and Chuck could sense the wafting frustration. Casey was not enjoying the sharing.

He gave him an out. "You totally can't resist my charms," Chuck finished for him. Grinning.

"Shut up." 

"Am I wrong?"

"Shut up."

"Shut up means yes."

"Chuck," he said, sounding tired.

"Okay, okay. I'll do my best to refrain from using my amazing powers of seduction to wrap you around my little finger."

Casey looked at him, and just for a second Chuck could see how much this hurt Casey. He ignored that little part of him that was relieved that Casey was hurting too and said, "Okay, Casey, I'm kidding. I'm sorry I didn't listen. But I have way more bdsm experience than you, so I figured you were... you know." 

It was true. Though most of Chuck's experiences were light on pain and heavy on submission. But Casey had hardly any experience, and before Chuck, none of it was topping.

"But I have _a lot_ more experience with hurting people than you do," Casey answered, and it wasn't bragging for once. It was, to Casey, a logical point.

Chuck nodded, slowly. It hadn't occurred to him that Casey would think one had anything to do with the other.

"Did you like it?" Chuck asked. _Idiot, don't ask that,_ he told himself then.

But Casey just neutrally answered, "You know I did."

"I know you came. Did you like it?"

"Not... I did. When it looked like you were really getting off on it, it was a rush. I admit. But it's not my... first choice."

"Okay."

"No, fuck that. What I want to say to you, Chuck, is that you should have fucking stopped me and I should have stopped you, and now your body is one giant bruise and you can barely move, and I fucking hate us both right now." Casey spoke quickly, angrily but quietly, and then leaned back, waiting for Chuck to argue with him.

Chuck just said, "Okay. Understandable."

"You didn't like it, just say that you didn't like-"

"I already said I didn't like it! I just - I'm not going to apologize for having mixed feelings. I'm going to remember how excited I was at the start. And how good parts of it were. And how afterwards, you were so sweet, and don't even act like you weren't, you were so nice after and you never act like that after, and it almost - I mean, I'm sorry if you felt pressured, but geez, how much does the guy who may or may not be able to walk normally have to apologize?!"

Casey looked surprised. Unnerved, even, and Chuck didn't think he liked seeing that face. 

"I didn't mean for you to apologize. I just ... yes. I liked it. But it was too much. It was too much for me, Chuck."

The words came out raspy and Chuck suddenly realized that Casey had likely never had that thought, much less said it to anyone, in his entire life. _This was too much for Casey._

Chuck just reached out to grab Casey's hand. He said, "Good, because we are not doing that again for a very, very long time."

Casey let out a breath and smiled, relief washing over him, washing some residue of tension away.

"As in never," Casey asked.

Chuck smiled. "A very, very long time before we even talk about it again, " he promised.

Casey nodded. He gently sat next to Chuck in the bed, trying not to jostle, and moved over just enough so Chuck could lean on him.

"Can I help you to the shower?" he asked finally.

Chuck said, "In a little while, you definitely can. I'd say you're totally taking care of me all day."

Casey grunted. He ran his hand along Chuck's chest, but the motion was so gentle Chuck didn't mind.


End file.
